


let the rest go

by imagines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, Established Relationship, M/M, afab genderqueer!Keith/cis!Shiro, best friends with benefits, first-time anal sex for Keith, mixed afab/neutral language, trans keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21639049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: Keith loves a lot of things about Shiro—loves them in ways he’s not prepared to address at the moment, but that’s all right, because Shiro’s never tried to rush him into explaining his feelings.Right now, one of the things Keith loves is how Shiro can take one look at him when Keith gets home from his shitty retail job andknowit’s been a bad day. Maybe it’s because of the set of Keith’s jaw, or his hunched shoulders, or the way his arms are crossed just so over his chest. Whatever alerts Shiro to Keith’s state of mind, it makes him immediately set his laptop aside on the couch and come to meet Keith in the entryway. He’s shirtless and sock-footed, with gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. It’s his standard day-off, lounging-around look, and it never fails to make Keith’s mouth water.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 249
Collections: Bloom: a Trans Sheith Zine





	let the rest go

Keith loves a lot of things about Shiro—loves them in ways he’s not prepared to address at the moment, but that’s all right, because Shiro’s never tried to rush him into explaining his feelings.

Right now, one of the things Keith loves is how Shiro can take one look at him when Keith gets home from his shitty retail job and _know_ it’s been a bad day. Maybe it’s because of the set of Keith’s jaw, or his hunched shoulders, or the way his arms are crossed just so over his chest. Whatever alerts Shiro to Keith’s state of mind, it makes him immediately set his laptop aside on the couch and come to meet Keith in the entryway. He’s shirtless and sock-footed, with gray sweatpants slung low on his hips. It’s his standard day-off, lounging-around look, and it never fails to make Keith’s mouth water.

Shiro wrapping his arms around Keith always feels like sliding into a warm bath, and all the tension fades from his muscles. He breathes a long sigh, sinking against Shiro’s bare chest and closing his eyes.

“Wanna talk about it?” Shiro asks in a low, soothing rumble. For a guy who’s so damn _big_ , he can be unbelievably soft. Another quality Keith deeply appreciates about his best friend.

Keith shakes his head. “Just the same shit as always.” When his back is turned, customers notice only his short hair and muscular shoulders, and they call him _sir_ to get his attention. He wants to love it when they do, but inside he’s already cringing, knowing that as soon as he turns around, they’ll stare wide-eyed and stammer and apologize repeatedly, and overall make the situation so much more awkward than it has to be. _Sir is fine_ , he tells them every time, with a practiced smile none of them can tell is pasted on. But they make a whole new set of assumptions after that, and he never has the time to clarify, let alone the desire. What he’s thinking, what he can’t say out loud, is that it’s weird for perfect strangers to think about his gender even more than _he_ does. _I’m just Keith_ , he wants to tell them. _Just call me Keith and let the rest of it go_.

“Hey,” Shiro murmurs, rubbing his back. “I’m here, babe. Just tell me what you need.” He kisses the top of Keith’s head. It’s sweet, because Shiro is always sweet to Keith. He’s never stingy with little gestures of affection; they come easy as breathing, as if he doesn’t even have to think about it.

Keith can feel the shape of him in his sweatpants—not hard or anything, just _there_ , pressed gently against Keith’s stomach, because Shiro is holding him so close. It’s that, plus the sweetness, that lights him up inside. He angles his head back so he can see Shiro’s face; tilts his hips forward to increase the pressure a little. “I need a distraction,” he says, already weak for Shiro, and knowing Shiro is weak for him too.

Shiro’s hands slide down to grip his ass. “I can do that for you. Just to be sure we’re on the same page—you don’t mean ordering pizza, right?”

“Nah, but we could do that after.” Keith grins up at Shiro, the memory of his awful day already passing into forgotten history. It might be just as bad tomorrow—in fact, it probably will be—but for the moment, he’s got something better to focus on.

* * *

They rented this apartment together after Shiro got into grad school, because campus dorms or houses with five other roommates weren’t cutting it for either of them anymore. An airy first-floor two-bedroom with a patio and actual _silence_ at night was the answer. Side benefit: no more hookups where they both get off as quickly and quietly as possible to avoid being overheard or walked in on. Sometimes, if their days off line up, they spend a whole morning in bed. Sleepy, lazy sex followed by cold-brewed iced coffee and scrambled eggs is fast becoming Keith’s favorite way to wake up.

The two bedrooms thing, though. It probably wouldn’t be necessary, but Keith needs the pretense: they aren’t dating, and he doesn’t want them to be. Having his own space with a door that locks is a physical symbol of that—even if he rarely locks his door, and even if they spend most nights sleeping together in one of their beds. (Usually Shiro’s, because Keith’s window faces the side of another apartment building, but Shiro’s overlooks a wooded area with open sky above, and Keith loves to fall asleep looking out at the stars.)

They’re in Shiro’s bed right now. Keith’s polo shirt and khakis lie discarded on the floor with Shiro’s sweatpants. Shiro has unleashed Keith’s hair from its ponytail and is straddling his hips, cupping his chest with huge, warm hands. He pinches Keith’s nipples _hard_ and rolls them between his fingers, sending white-hot jolts through Keith’s body, an electric storm in his bones. He wants to squirm, but he can’t—Shiro’s weight on him keeps him still.

Shiro follows up with the hot bliss of his tongue, a chaser for the pain. The threat of teeth set against Keith’s sensitive skin makes him moan. Hands in Shiro’s hair, he holds Shiro’s mouth against him, feeling more than a little demanding today.

There shouldn’t be any surprises. They each already know what the other enjoys, so when Shiro sucks harder and slides one hand into Keith’s underwear, it’s with a practiced certainty. Keith is probably more shocked than Shiro when his legs clamp together, trapping Shiro’s hand.

Shiro stops moving instantly, always so attuned to Keith. “Not feeling it?”

“I don’t know, I still—I need—” He’s aching, burning up for it, about to burst out of his skin, and he’s not feeling _this_ but he doesn’t want to stop.

Shiro gently pulls his hand away, but he doesn’t stop touching Keith, palms skimming over the tops of his thighs; up his ribcage; across his stomach. “Something else?”

A fantasy flashes into Keith’s mind—one he’s thought about for ages and used to get himself off countless times. One he thinks he might prefer to what they usually do. But he’s never been able to work up the nerve to ask for it for real. “Yeah,” he whispers.

Shiro covers Keith’s body with his own, leaning in to kiss his neck. “What’s got you so shy? You can tell me, sweetheart. I just wanna make you feel good.”

The dark heat in Shiro’s eyes pins Keith to the bed. He can’t say it. He can’t. _Figure it out_ , he wants to beg. “I want you to fuck me,” he says, almost inaudible.

Shiro squeezes his hip; slides his hand to the inside of Keith’s thigh. “But not here.”

Keith shakes his head. Closes his eyes. Waits and wishes.

The hand moves to the small of Keith’s back and slips just under his waistband. One fingertip barely teases the cleft of his ass. “What about here?”

He can’t stop himself. Back arching, he grinds down on Shiro’s hand, gasping.

Shiro is purring sweet, filthy words in his ear: “Is that it, babe? Tell me, and I’ll do it right now if you want.”

Shame is scrawled across Keith’s face. He’s flushing so hot he can feel it spreading down his chest. He wants it worse than anything; at the same time, he thinks he’ll die if he has to say it. But Shiro wants him to say it, and for Shiro, he can do it. “Yes,” he all but sobs. “Please, Shiro.”

“Have you ever done it before?”

“I mean—my fingers, but—no.” He still can’t look Shiro in the eye. Shiro _knows_ now. He wonders if Shiro is imagining how he looked when he did it.

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting that, Keith. Will you let me do it for you?”

“Only if you want to,” he says in a small voice.

“Baby,” Shiro growls, “you have no idea how bad I want to.” His next kiss feels like a supernova, all the pent-up want and desperation exploding inside Keith. “Do you wanna be on your back?”

“I, I think—um—” They’re really doing this, Keith thinks wildly. He’s really going to let Shiro look at him like that; touch him like that. _Fuck_ him like that. “Let me turn over,” he says. Maybe if he can hide his face, he can do this. Fuck, he wants to do this.

Shiro moves off him; lets him roll onto his stomach. Keith crosses his arms on the pillow, resting his head on them. He isn’t sure what to expect, or where Shiro will touch him first.

He’s definitely not expecting hands on his shoulders, kneading at the seemingly-permanent knots he’s acquired at work. “Ohh,” he groans. “What are you doing?”

“Making you feel good,” Shiro says. “Is it working?”

“Mmmh…” Forming an entire sentence is off the table at the moment.

Shiro’s laugh is like distant thunder. “That’s what I thought.” His thumbs dig into the tight muscles along Keith’s spine, working downward to the wicked stiffness in his hips. But when Shiro’s hands skim Keith’s ass, Keith can’t help tensing up. Shiro moves up to his shoulders again, starting from the beginning.

An embarrassing whine slips out of Keith’s mouth, half-muffled by the pillow.

“Did you want something?” Shiro asks, all breezy, as if he has no idea whatsoever.

“You _know_ what I want,” Keith growls.

Shiro’s hands are halfway down his back again. “Yeah, baby, I know. I’m gonna get you there.”

This time, when Shiro reaches his ass, Keith wills himself to stay relaxed and breathe deeply. But Shiro’s thumb brushing over his hole makes him flinch, and he spits a curse into the pillow when Shiro starts _again_ at his shoulders.

He’s whining louder by the time Shiro’s big hands spread him apart again, squirming down against the bed, so wet his thighs are slick with it. He waits and waits for a touch that doesn’t come—Shiro is just _looking_ at him, holding him open and watching him writhe.

“Aren’t you pretty,” Shiro murmurs.

“Shiro, _please_ —”

“Patience, sweetheart.” Shiro squeezes Keith’s hips, then moves slowly inward, his strong hands working away all the tension. This time, when his fingertips return to Keith’s rim, there is no lurch of anxiety. It’s just an extension of the massage, Keith’s muscles going warm and loose under Shiro’s skillful touch. “That’s it,” Shiro says. “See, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“I think I melted,” Keith mumbles against the pillow.

Shiro’s laugh is soft. “Yeah? That feel nice?”

“Mmhmm.”

Shiro’s hand withdraws, and there’s a faint _click_ of a bottle cap opening. When he touches Keith again, his fingers are slick with lube. He bends forward and places a kiss at the top of Keith’s spine, as he rubs Keith in gentle circles, letting him get used to the feeling. His hard cock brushes against Keith’s hip, and Keith shivers. He isn’t sure he can take _that_ yet, but knowing Shiro is so worked up just from touching him makes his insides turn to liquid gold, and he lets his legs fall open a little more.

Shiro makes a pleased sound and increases the pressure slightly, pushing his fingertip against the center of Keith’s hole. “Are you ready, baby? I’ll go as slow as you want.”

They’re at the threshold, and all Keith has to do is say yes. He wrestles with himself for a moment, still fighting off the shame of how bad he wants it, and the years he spent thinking he wasn’t _supposed_ to want it.

But Shiro is here with him, standing at the edge of new and burning pleasure. And Shiro wants it too.

Keith takes one last deep breath and reminds his body to stay relaxed. “Ready,” he whispers, and Shiro’s finger enters him.

The _noise_ Keith makes—he’s never made one like it before, no matter how good he was getting fucked, no matter if it was Shiro or not. It’s animal, alien, _humiliating_ , and he wishes he could be quiet, but he can’t seem to stop. Desperate to shut himself up, he slaps his hand over his mouth—but Shiro grabs his wrist and jerks his hand away, pinning it to the bed.

“No,” Shiro growls. “Let me hear you, gorgeous. You sound so fucking hot.”

Fuck. _Fuck_. Keith lets himself break; lets that sound tear out of himself again. Shiro makes it so easy to give up control. He touches Keith like he’s priceless art. Like nothing can go wrong as long as Shiro is holding him.

“Look at you,” Shiro whispers. “Taking it so well. You just need your pretty little asshole fucked, don’t you, baby? Yeah, I know you do. I can take care of you. Fill you up however you want it, fuck you till you’re crying, whatever you want, it’s all yours.”

Shiro’s dirty talk is fucking legendary, if you ask Keith. Shiro will say whatever it takes to push Keith to the edge. Keith _wishes_ his own inhibitions were that low.

“I can see how much you like this. You’re so wet from just one finger in your ass. It’s not a secret. Come on, you can tell me.”

It’s true. He’s already soaked, molten to the core. “I love it,” he whimpers, and Shiro hums approvingly and eases in another finger.

He doesn’t understand how this feeling can be swelling in him already, familiar and foreign at once—how is he so close without even touching his clit? Even when he’d fingered himself, it hadn’t felt like this.

“Shiro—I think I’m—I’m gonna—nngh, what the _fuck_ —”

“Are you okay?” Shiro starts to slow down, but at Keith’s desperate plea, he resumes his pace. “Baby, talk to me, how do you feel?”

“I think I’m gonna _come_ ,” Keith cries.

“Yeah? Gonna fucking come on my fingers, baby?” Shiro kisses the dip at the base of his spine and fucks in hard, _harder._

“But I’m not—I don’t have—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shiro says. “Some people can anyway.” His fingers piston in and out. “Focus on it,” he says in a low voice. “Feel it growing. Let it wash over you. I’m here, Keith, I’ve got you.” He’s hitting that spot over and over, sending Keith higher on each thrust, and oh— _oh_ — “Come for me, beautiful.”

Keith clings to the sheets, knuckles white, and comes.

After he catches his breath, he pushes up onto his hands and knees. He’s trembling all over. Over his shoulder, he can see Shiro is breathing hard as he wipes his hands with a small towel. His cock is still thick and heavy and _hard_ , and Keith’s body clenches on nothing, and he _wants_. Shiro hasn’t come at all yet. He’s been so focused on taking care of Keith.

Keith turns himself around so he can reach Shiro, touch him, stroke him.

“Mmm,” Shiro says, his lashes fluttering closed. “Baby, that feels so good.”

“I know something I bet would feel even better,” Keith says. He’s nervous, oh god he’s fucking _scared_ to try, but the want is consuming him. If it doesn’t work, it’ll be okay. He wants, he _needs_ , to try.

Shiro opens his eyes, his smoldering ash-gray gaze fixing on Keith’s face. “What do you mean?”

“Fuck me,” Keith whispers. His voice is so small. He’s terrified—will it hurt? How much can he take?—but he can’t stop thinking of how it would feel for Shiro to bury himself inside him, as deep as he can get. He stares Shiro down a moment more, then turns back around, staying on his hands and knees, but leaning on his forearms with his ass high in the air. Give Shiro the idea. See what he does with it.

“You mean—oh, Keith, you don’t have to do that, I can just—”

“Shiro,” Keith begs, and the shame has drained away; he just _needs_. “I want it, I’m so fucking wet from thinking about it, look—” He tilts his hips higher, using one hand to spread his labia. He hears Shiro suck in a sharp breath. _That_ got his attention, huh. Keith moves his hand back and around to his ass, spreading himself there too. He lets himself clench down. He knows Shiro can see it. Knows Shiro is thinking about how that would feel around his cock.

Shiro’s hand is back on Keith’s hole, thumb pressing in, stealing his breath away. “I fucked you till you came from it,” Shiro muses. “And you still want more…”

“I want you,” Keith gasps. “I want everything you can give me.”

“You want this?” The slick head of Shiro’s cock bumps up against his hole.

He’s shivering, waiting for it. He can’t begin to imagine how it’ll feel. But Shiro is always careful with him, gentle with him, never giving him more than he can handle. “I want it, Shiro, _please_.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Do you want me to get a condom?”

Sometimes Keith doesn’t feel like making a mess. This isn’t one of those times. He wants to experience all of it, hot and claiming and deep. “No,” he says. “Just like this.”

He can feel Shiro’s hand on his lower back, holding him steady as Shiro starts to push inside. For one breathless, panicked second, he thinks he’s gonna have to say stop—Shiro’s dick is fucking _huge_ , stretching him to the limit, so much bigger than anything Keith has attempted before. Shiro does have to pause a few times to let Keith adjust, and it seems to go on forever, but finally he feels Shiro’s hips meet his ass.

“There you go,” Shiro breathes. “Fuck, you look good.”

Keith manages to dig up one little crumb of courage. “Tell me?”

A reverent finger traces his rim. “You’re so open for me. So fucking tight, baby, oh…”

Keith feels Shiro’s thighs trembling. Feels his cock twitch as he struggles to keep still. Shiro won’t move until Keith tells him to. Keith is the one clawing at the sheets, but Shiro has given him all the power. The idea scorches him: he could make Shiro stay like this, tell him to be good, wait till he’s more desperate than Keith—but another time. Another time, when Keith isn’t starving for it. For now he’ll be merciful. “You can move,” he tells Shiro.

Shiro fucks him so cautiously, in tentative little thrusts, and Keith appreciates the thought, but he wants _overwhelming_. When the slide turns easy, he rocks back hard and takes Shiro to the hilt in one quick motion. Shiro’s shocked moan is the best thing Keith’s heard all day, and Keith grins, and does it again.

“You trying to tell me something?” Shiro rasps.

Keith twists, looking over his shoulder, taking in the flex of Shiro’s muscles as he fucks into Keith, the heat in his eyes, his happy little smirk. Shiro wants him like this—wants it just as bad as Keith does. “Harder,” Keith says, and watches Shiro’s mouth drop open.

“Yeah?” Shiro’s grip goes tight on Keith’s hips, a sign of what’s to come.

The next thrust hits Keith like a thunderclap. He throws his head back and shouts, taking everything Shiro gives him. He’s coming unbound, every plunge of Shiro’s cock bringing him closer to freedom. He reaches down to cup the hot, slick swell of himself and stroke his clit. He can _have_ this.

Shiro doesn’t miss the motion of his hand. “Yeah, just like that. Let me see it. I’m so close, sweetheart.”

“Deeper,” Keith begs. “I need—yeah, like that, right there— _fuck_ —” He comes again, rutting back onto Shiro’s cock, squeezing hard around him, and he feels Shiro spill inside him too.

After, as he starts to come down, the awkwardness begins to creep back into his mind. He stares at the bed as Shiro carefully pulls out, cringing as Shiro’s come drips down his thighs. There’s no graceful way out of this.

But Shiro is still here, petting his shoulders and back, calming him. “You’re amazing,” he says, and then his hand is on Keith’s hole again, and he’s—he’s pressing shameless fingers into Keith, pushing his own come back inside, as if he’s riveted by the sight. “You look so hot like this.”

“Thank you,” Keith says in a small voice. He thinks it’s not the thing he’s supposed to say, but he’s got nothing left. He’s suddenly exhausted from letting Shiro inside that very private wall he’d built.

Shiro doesn’t comment on it, though. He just lets go of Keith to lie down beside him and pull him against Shiro’s chest. “No,” he says, nuzzling Keith’s hair. “Thank _you_. You let me see something special. I know it was hard for you to talk about it. And I’m proud of you for telling me.”

So much has changed today, Keith thinks. He nestles closer and tries to accept all of it. “So you liked it?”

“Was I not obvious enough? I’ll have to try harder next time.” Shiro tips Keith’s chin up to look into his eyes. “If you want a next time?”

“I do,” Keith says quietly. “I’ve never—no one’s made me feel like that before. You make me feel things that I can’t—I don’t know how to…” He’s struggling to find the words that will make it clear to Shiro, but Keith isn’t even clear on his own emotions.

“It’s okay,” Shiro says. He’s petting Keith’s hair in long, smooth strokes, and if Keith were a cat, he’d be purring. “If you don’t know how to say it, you don’t have to.”

“I just—” In this moment, it has become the most important thing, to try to express it. Keith’s heart feels like a cracked egg, and it’ll be better if he just lets his thoughts be free. “I need you to know. That I care about you. You’re my best friend and I feel so lucky that I met you.”

Shiro’s arms tighten around him, and Shiro sighs against Keith’s temple. “Hey. It’s okay, Keith. I feel the same way about you.”

Keith smiles against the warm plane of Shiro’s chest. There’s more to all of this, probably. But for now, he’s safe, and Shiro cares about him. For now, Keith can let the rest go.


End file.
